Page 112 of Limbo

“Now you’re going to say the words.”

The rush of panic returns. “Then what? We take turns hurting the other until we can’t stand the sight of each other?” Because that’s all I know. The type of love where it consumes you and burns you, and you have to fight to even make it out alive.

“No, baby.” He slaps the light switch next to me, darkening the room. “Then I’m going to tell you I love you, too, and we’ll make Gibson regret inviting us to the housewarming party by traumatizing her nightlight.”

I smile, once again disarmed by his ability to flip everything from one emotion to another with a few words. My hands run up the back of his neck to his hair. He leans in, but he pulls back before our lips meet. “Hey. I’ve laid out a plan for the rest of our night. There’s no way I’m letting you skip any of the steps.”

I want to believe we can love each other without the ugliness and pain. I want to believe it more than I’ve wanted to believe anything in my entire life. To trust that, even when we’re not bright and shiny anymore, it won’t matter. He’ll still look at me in his way, and I’ll find him charming, even when he’s frustrating. But I’m not there yet. So, for now, I’ll just have to believe him. Trust him. Let him be certain enough for the both of us.

“I love you, Jordan.” The way he stares down at me wreaks even more havoc on my already-erratic heartbeat, and I force a breath. “Happy now?”

A slow smile spreads. “Oh, I’m fucking ecstatic.”

He dips down to kiss me, but I duck out of the way. “I remember someone being extremely concerned about following a specific agenda.”

Jordan cups my cheeks in his hands, expression serious. “I love you, too, Callie. So much it’s borderline inappropriate.”

His words somehow erase the last of my apprehension. I bite my lip and reach behind me to unclasp my bra. Jordan’s gaze drops as I toss it over the clown nightlight to stop it from watching. Without any windows, the room turns black. He kisses me, slow at first but the urgency returns. His hands stay on my face, bringing me with him as he backs up. Lips still on his, I laugh as he bumps into everything on our way across the room.

When he stops, his hands drop to the button on my jeans. He spins us around and tugs them and my panties off my hips and down my thighs. His fingers glide up, and he lifts me onto the counter behind me. The unexpected cold of the tiles on my bare skin makes me cry out.

“Shit,” he says, “what did I do?” He picks me back up, arms around my waist.

“It’s cold.”

He blows out a breath and laughs. “I’m sorry, beautiful.”

This time, he sets me down slower to let me adjust, but I still whimper until he kisses me. The warmth of him makes me forget about my whining. I shove his jeans and boxers down until he takes over and finishes the job. My sandals hit the floor as he slides my jeans and underwear the rest of the way off my legs. Then he’s between my thighs, and he jerks me to the edge. His mouth covers mine, his tongue plunging deep and his fingers threading through my hair. I hook my legs around him, and he groans when his erection grazes against me. He slowly pushes himself inside me, and I tilt my hips, so he slides all the way in. My arms wrap around his neck, and I tip my head back, feeling his lips on my skin and each unhurried thrust, desperate for the next. I need him. All of him. In ways I never thought I would. And right now, I doubt that will ever change.

The Friday after the laundry room tryst, my siblings and I start the summer custody schedule with our first full week at Graham’s. Skip ahead twenty-four hours later, and it already feels like it’s been a month.

Since Cate tested out oftwoskills tonight at swim lessons, she earned two blue slushies. The first of which she’s already slurping on in the backseat. I’m convinced the limit to how many blue slushies she can consume does not exist, but I never plan on testing my theory.

On the drive to Graham’s, she calls Jordan to brag about her mastery of swimming in the deep end and the backstroke. Her interest in him fades when we pull up to the house, and she sees the lights on inside. She realizes Connor’s home, and before she leaps out of the car, she tosses me the phone. It lands in my lap with Jordan still chatting away.

“My biggest concern with being a merman is, how will you transfer me from one place to another?”

“Mine is, which parts of you stay human and which turn fish?”

He laughs, used to being discarded on a whim. “Hey, beautiful. And, if you mean my godlike hair and genius mind, they’ll stay as they are.”

“Nope. Those aren’t the parts I’m concerned about.”

“Did she really pass the backstroke?”

“Her instructor questioned the legitimacy of her kicking style but gave in to her whining.”

“That’s my girl.” The pride in his voice is undeniable.

Cate opens the front door and waves for me to come inside, but I could really use a longer break. More Jordan time and less … everything else. I sigh when her gestures become more frantic.

“Well, the sea monster beckons me. Good luck with dinner.”

Now he sighs, not at all enthused about spending the evening battling his parents over his future. “We’ll see how open they actually are to my alternatives. Dustin promised our dear, sweet mother is coming in willing to negotiate. I think the night will more than likely end with,Hello, real world and crippling student loan debt.”

“With an optimistic outlook like that, you can’t fail.” I crawl out of my car and wrinkle my nose. The smell of burned rubber or plastic hangs heavy in the air.

“Callista!” Cate screeches from the steps. The shrill sound cuts through the quiet streets, and the neighbors’ dogs start barking.

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